Dominion
by Valisco
Summary: He could move the world with his power, he could rule out all of his enemies with an iron fist—yet he was vulnerable to the desires she had given him. He finally decided to take charge. — Rare pair, oneshot.


**Disclaimer: Owning Hetalia? Yeah, no.**

**Hetalia: Axis Powers (c) Hidekaz Himaruya **

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><p><span>Dominion<span>

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><p>.<p>

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If there was anything the world could make out of Alfred F. Jones, was that he was a childish fool.

Except that he was not, no matter what his naive exterior presented to the world.

The world could not understand why him of all the nations that walked on this great Earth, was the one who became the leader of the free world. Why his country became the embodiment of democracy and freedom, or why he was able to emerge as the world's only Superpower. Yet he displayed himself as a goofy, loving, carefree idiot who can barely read the atmosphere.

How could someone so idiotic obtain so much power?

They spewed ignorance, oblivious to another half of him. The other half of the foolish man they generally saw. In his other half was a very intelligent, diligent, and authoritative man. A man who the country he represented was capable of moving the world with its power, and ruling out his enemies with an iron fist.

He rarely revealed that side of him and he was careful not showing it at times of distress or chaos. However, there was a breaking point where he would become vulnerable and display it. Such as in the past due to being sucked into major wars in the last century, and a political warfare that he was locked in with another powerful and ruthless nation. The clashing between ideologies was too much for him to resist.

Yet not even the Soviet Union was able to top him, and it fell apart, Russia was seething when he saw America take throne. He stood at the top as the only leader, his country a role model for a free society, an influential force, graced with reputable allies, respected by the masses, he was to live his dream—a hero.

However with great power came responsibility, and in order to live his dream peacefully, he decided to train himself to not reveal his other side. It was for the best after all, the world did not need to see his true power. It would cause heavy perplexity and a burden on others. Not wanting to create turmoil, he allowed the world continue to see his facade.

Even when he was forced to carry of the world's weight of burdens. It was like he was seen as a God among men.

And he secretly loved it, to be able to hold power and influence the world—so much that no existence would be able to topple him down and take his place.

He had full control of everything.

Or did he?

Despite accomplishments and all other important measures he had in grasp, there was _one_ thing he could not control.

She was small, but wealthy and beautiful. She could charm men with alluring appearance, yet rob them of their revenue in a single match of poker. She held no mercy, and intelligence graced her when approached. She would create luscious whispers in her native tongue when engaged in passionate acts.

And it just so happened that he had fallen for her, that was something he could not control.

. . .

"I win Mr. Jones."

A statement that preached the fierce final verdict, America said nothing and narrowed his eyes at the woman who sat across from him. He hesitantly placed his remaining playing cards down and sighed in irritation. He leaned back in his seat, allowing the fact that he lost another round of cards sink in.

Monaco made a smile and also leaned herself back in her seat. "I suppose Las Vegas has a lot to learn from Monte Carlo."

He let out a slight glare at her. While he respected one of the most prestigious gambling capitals of the world, he did not like that his lover was mocking his own.

He then let out a smirk when he recalled an unsettling fact. "Aren't you_ not_ allowed in your own casinos?"

This made Monaco go off guard and frowned, the fool the world generally saw of America was not seen here, rather he was making clever remarks to get back at her cocky ones.

She huffed. "There are reasons for that."

"Like what?"

"I suppose because my prince does not want me to loaf around in gambling too much, because after all. . ."

She smirked. ". . .I have never lost a match."

"That's a given."

"And you know what else I haven't lost?"

"What?"

At that point he viewed her rise from her seat, his eyes slightly widened in awe as she moved her hips while she walked down toward him. She sat on his lap and placed a quick peck on his lips, catching him by surprise.

Once she moved her face away from his blushing one, she rubbed one of her hands onto his broad chest, eyes filled with desire, signaling that she was in the mood for foreplay.

She whispered, "Now for round two."

. . .

Clothes had fallen to the floor. Her back hit the soft mattress of the bed, as she had been pinned by him. He kissed her curves and body savagely, tension building, causing her to moan.

He did not hesitate to take each of her breasts into his mouth. He ravished and licked them like a madman, while she sung in pleasure.

_"Mon Dieu. . ."_

It seemed so funny to him, to allow himself commit such intimate acts. That he being the leader of the world was being taken control of, was being exploited—to be stripped of his dignity for the sake of lust and desire. To allow a small and fervent female principality like Monaco take advantage of a powerful superpower like him for sensual needs. Generally America was always in control of aspects, ranging from the battlefield to the political seats, but when it came to love he could never take charge. In his relationship with Monaco, she was the one who managed to coax him into her needs.

He secretly hated that she managed to have such dominance over him, that she was much older and experienced, that she had captured his heart, her intelligence, her grace, her beauty. . .

However, he had planned to not lose this round. This time, he was going to show her how truly dominant _he_ can be. He was going to make her _want_ him.

He continued on, trailing his lips down to her most sensual area while his hands went to greet them. They explored and conquered every feature of her pulsing folds. She ran her hands onto his blond hair, her choir increasing in volume as she pounced, her mind reaching high in the clouds of lust. She knew she was reaching her breaking point.

However before Monaco would achieve her orgasm, he cut off the temptation, throwing her off and smirking when he found her cheeks flushed red. She had become completely flustered at the current situation.

"I know you want more," America whispered deviously, she whimpered in response, urging him to continue. She wondered whether he was teasing her and if it was payback toward all other the times she would conquer him in bed.

She was correct, seeing her in such in a vulnerable state pleased America. He crushed his lips into hers, being just as unforgiving with her mouth as he was before.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, while his rough hands grasped her ass to keep her in place. Once their groins hit, they found themselves immersed in passion. Monaco released cries as America rocked her, while she moved her hips to match with his, her hand dug nails onto his back. Her breasts bounced up and down he pumped her. The bed squeaked as his strokes deepen to find the spot, her body becoming firm and yielding to his thrusts, wanting to feel the pleasure. Their breathing synchronized as their movements rose in momentum, wrinkling the sheets beneath them. Together, they moaned in union as their groins demanded that _it_ be released. They even added more—kissing, touching, fondling. . .

Once they reached at max ecstasy, he hit her with one last thrust and she cried out his name. He groaned in delight and said her name in return, allowing his fluids to flood into her. Once that was done he pulled away from her, both regaining their normal breathing. Later, they sensed the cold air hit their hot and sweaty bodies.

. . .

"So, who won?"

Monaco was too embarrassed to answer his question, instead she timidly lifted herself from the bed, carrying the sheets to protect her naked figure and pull out the band from her messy braid. Her brown locks flutter down to her back, and her lover grinning in delight at her awkward attitude.

He finally had gained dominance.

"Guess we have a new winner," America joked as he leaned back, sighing in content.

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><p><strong>AN:** I contemplated on whether I should write this, because this idea had been stuck in my head for a while. Yet part of me was quite hesitant, but my stubborn persistence won. Also, this might be my last Hetalia piece because I find myself distancing away from the Hetalia fandom. I see a lot of aspects that make me feel like I really don't belong in it. As for the series, I still like it but not as much as before. Not that it matters anyway, even so thanks for reading.


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